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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155185">You're Streets Away From Where It Gets The Roughest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaossBells/pseuds/KaossBells'>KaossBells</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>'Cause London Is Drowning [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Boys (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1980s, Billy's a The Clash fan, Billy's a punk kid, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Introspection, Protective Siblings, Sam Butcher is an arsehole, Sam Butcher's A+ parenting, Strong Language, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, trying to write a cockney accent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:49:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,603</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaossBells/pseuds/KaossBells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"[...] sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was clinging to his brother so much because he needed him more than the other way around."</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>'Cause London Is Drowning [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You're Streets Away From Where It Gets The Roughest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Oi, Lenny! I’m going to pick you up at 10. You ain’t going home alone, understand?”</p><p>“Yeah, Billy. I know.”</p><p>The scrawny boy gave his big brother a smile and a wave from across the street before turning around to knock at the door of a small house.</p><p>“And don’t get in trouble!”</p><p>“Shouldn’t I be telling you that?”</p><p>“Don’t get smart with me, kid.”</p><p>Lenny looked over his shoulder once more and rolled his eyes good-naturedly just as the front door opened and he was greeted by Josh, his best friend.</p><p>Billy watched his brother enter the house and waited until the door fell shut behind him. He let his eyes wander over the front yard, the neatly trimmed bushes, and the colourful flowerbeds. The sun had just started setting and the warm light was reflected in the windows, just about blinding the teen as he shielded his eyes. For a second, he saw Lenny looking out at him through one of the windows, giving him another wave. This time, though, he thought he looked a little worried.</p><p>With a slight frown on his face, Billy stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his worn, slightly too big leather jacket and turned on his heel. He had at least five hours to kill before Lenny expected him back. There was a tube station a couple of streets over and he briefly considered taking it to the city. He only had the few pounds on him that Aunt Judy had slipped him the last time she’d visited, though, and he’d promised not to spend it on pointless shit. Not that he really cared, but he still needed to get something for his mum’s birthday, and he was notoriously bad at handling his finances. Better not spend it on some aimless trip to a place he didn’t want to be anyway, then.</p><p>So, because he really didn’t want to go back home either, he decided to just keep walking. He wanted nothing more than to just put on his headphones and listen to some music on his walkman as his thoughts started to drift into dangerous territories again. But he didn’t have it anymore, his most precious possession.</p><p>More often than not their parents would get into violent fights, especially if their father had gotten drunk again. That made it literally impossible for either of them to fall asleep and so, when Lenny had snuck into his room again a few nights ago, Billy had finally caved and given him the walkman to drown out the loud noises from the living room. There were very few quiet nights in the Butcher household and Billy had learned to survive on little sleep from a fairly early age on. He’d grown a thick skin when it came to their father’s abuse. Don’t get him wrong, he was angry alright! But Lenny was different. He was smart and a little delicate, more perceptive to the world around him, and always slightly skittish. Billy liked to make fun of him sometimes, but mostly he just worried for the kid. So, he tried to get him out of the house as much as possible.</p><p>He ran a hand over his face to smooth out some of the angry tension that was starting to build up inside of him again. As much as he wanted to repress the thought, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was clinging to his brother so much because <em>he</em> needed <em>him</em> more than the other way around. Lenny just had a way of calming him down, of taking the edge off his rage. He knew when he needed distraction and he knew when he really needed to talk. Although the latter happened less and less. His kid brother had finally found some friends and he didn’t want to smother this little piece of happiness with his problems. So, he’d started to insist Lenny spend more time with his mates instead of walking around with him, hanging around playgrounds or the scrap yard. Even if it meant that Billy was on his own for most of the day. He was getting by just fine, <em>thank you very much!</em></p><p>Distractedly, he fumbled through the contents of his pockets until his fingers landed on the small pack of fags he’d stolen from his father that morning. He extracted one and put it between his lips without looking up. Lenny called this his brooding-walk. A purposeful, brisk pace paired with angrily glaring at the ground, mostly not caring if anyone got in his way. The thought brought an involuntary smile to his lips and he shook his head at himself. <em>Lenny, man…</em> A second later he’d produced a box of matches from his frayed jeans and managed to light the fag. Taking the first drag made his head feel a little woozy but he also finally relaxed his hunched-up shoulders a bit.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Two hours and six fags later Billy found himself leaning against a brick wall in some back alley, absentmindedly throwing pebbles at a bunch of empty beer cans. Despite the fact that it was still early autumn, the air was starting to get chilly and it made him hug his jacket closer around his body. Suddenly the sound of a heavy door being thrown open pulled him from his bored stupor. He looked up and, surely enough, a few yards from him a heavy-set, middle-aged man stepped into the alley. Music and the well-known noise of people getting drunk wavered through the open door and Billy’s interest was piqued. The man didn’t notice him, turned around with his two large bags of garbage and walked off towards the dustbins.</p><p>Carefully and without taking his eyes off the man’s back, Billy crept towards the door. Once there, he quickly glanced inside. Apparently, it was some kind of backroom of a bar and, as there was no one else in sight, he snuck in without a second thought. There was a door to his left that obviously led into the bar itself and he needed to hurry if he didn’t want that man to find him there. There was a crate of beer on his route towards said door, so he quickly grabbed two bottles and stuffed them into the inside pockets of his jacket. Ducking his head a little, a peaked into the bar and found it so jam-packed that he considered the chance of being caught immensely small. He discreetly slid through the door, scanned the room and instantly zoned in on a small, empty table in the furthest and therefore darkest corner of the admittedly rather seedy bar.</p><p>He didn’t care that the air was heavy with smoke and reeked of sweaty, drunk people. He didn’t care about their arguments about football or work or taxes or whatever the fuck they were fighting about. There was music, he was starting to warm up again, he’d found himself some drinks, and if he played his cards right, he might even be able to get his hands on a burger. Thinking about it now, he noticed how hungry he actually was. He’d skipped breakfast that morning in favour of leaving the house before his father woke up.</p><p>With his back to wall he felt safe enough to get comfortable. Crossing his ankle over his knee, he leant back in his chair and opened one of the bottles he’d so stealthily lifted. No one was paying him any mind, just as he liked it. One of the few things he actually enjoyed about living in a city like London was how easy it was to vanish in a crowd, the anonymity of it all.</p><p>The music wasn’t really Billy’s thing. The Beatles followed by Queen followed by Elton John followed by some other soft pop-rock shite. But as another hour went by, someone changed the station they were playing, and he was pleasantly surprised when The Clash came on. He’d already finished both beers and lit himself another fag as he hummed along to I’m Not Down, one of his favourites.</p><p>He stole a glance at the bar. There was still enough time to get himself another beer before he needed to pick up Lenny and the barman was nowhere to be seen. Although some of the patrons had already left, probably to get back home to their sad, little lives, there were still enough people around so he wouldn’t attract too much attention if he tried to sneak into the back.</p><p>Just as he took a deep breath and started to get up, a heavy hand settled ungently on his shoulder and pushed him back down. Billy whipped his head around to look at the assailant, anger immediately flaring up in his chest.</p><p>“You look mighty underage to me, son,” the barman said in a cockney accent even heavier than his father’s.</p><p>“What’s it to you, old man?” Billy spat back and grabbed the man’s wrist, trying to free himself.</p><p>“That’s it. You’re coming with me.”</p><p>The man roughly seized him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him off the chair. Billy really had no time to react as he was pulled into the backroom. Again, no one was paying any attention to what was going on. <em>Wow, sign of the times, huh?</em> Before he knew what was happening, he got shoved into another chair and found himself faced with the barman who was sporting a stern no-bullshit expression.</p><p>“What you think you’re doin’, cunt?” Billy looked up at him in a mix of irrational fury and utter, adolescent defiance.</p><p>“Savin’ ya from some bad decisions, peach fuzz,” the barman replied in a voice that felt way too calm for Billy’s liking. “And calling me a cunt? Very bad decision. But I’ll let it pass this time.”</p><p>From a rational point of view, Billy knew that he was at a clear physical disadvantage here. Unfortunate thing about his bouts of anger was that rationality played no part in it, though. So, out of the blue, he jumped up and took a swing at the man who was actually only a few inches taller than him. The real problem was that he had about four times his body mass. But this wasn’t Billy’s first brawl, not by a long shot. His fist hit the man square in the jaw and the look of surprise he gave him in that moment almost made Billy laugh. People tended to underestimate him, but he wasn’t as scrawny as his too-big clothes made him look.</p><p>“Ow,” the man groaned and rubbed at his jaw as a thin trickle of blood ran down his chin. In an unpredictably swift motion, he then proceeded to pin Billy to the wall with a thick forearm to the teen’s chest. “What’s your problem, eh? Got half a mind to call the coppers on ya.”</p><p>“Do it, then,” Billy replied, struggling against the man’s hold on him, but finding that he was trapped.</p><p>The man sighed, shaking his head. Then he grabbed Billy by the collar again and dragged him over to the door to the back alley. He shoved him out into the cold autumn air and Billy almost tripped over his own feet as he struggled for balance. Just when he was about to take another swing at the barman, a heavy fist collided with the side of his face. For a second he saw nothing but stars. Then he found himself on the damp cobblestone, looking up at the cheerless face of the man who’d just knocked him out.</p><p>“Sorry for that,” he muttered and turned his back on Billy as he entered the bar again. “I don’t want to see ya here again unless it’s for an apology.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Billy spat, now tasting blood on his tongue.</p><p>He heard a deep sigh before the door closed behind the man and he was left in the dark back alley again. Cursing under his breath he pushed himself off the ground and wiped at his bleeding lip.</p><p>“Fucking cunt,” he mumbled and checked his pockets. His money, fags, and keys were still there, thank fuck. So, without a look back, he slowly went to make his way to Josh’s house.</p><p> </p><p>* * *</p><p> </p><p>Lighting another fag, Billy stood just outside the light of the street lamp on the corner of the street, watching the front door of the house. There was movement inside and he could hear someone laughing. At just one minute to ten, the door opened and Lenny stepped out into the night. He waved over at Billy with a smile, then grinned back into the house and laughed at something that was going on inside.</p><p>“Bye, Len!” Billy heard Josh call out as his little brother made his way down the few steps into the front yard.</p><p>“See ya!” Lenny replied cheerfully and finally stepped through the little gate and onto the pavement.</p><p>The other boy was still standing in the door, his mother suddenly appearing beside him. They both found Billy standing in the shadows on the other side of the street and gave him awkward looks. Billy frowned at them, then nodded in slight acknowledgment. They just wanted to make sure Lenny was getting home safely. But he knew that some of Lenny’s mates were scared of him, so he was making a point of not interacting with them if it could be avoided. He <em>wanted</em> Lenny to have friends, after all.</p><p>“How’s your day, Lenny?” Billy puffed out some smoke as his brother arrived at his side and they started to walk together.</p><p>“Great,” his brother announced. “We got to play Super Mario Bros on Josh’s dad’s NES. You should’ve seen me, I was great at it!”</p><p>“I bet,” Billy smiled and clapped a hand to Lenny’s shoulder. “Glad you had fun.”</p><p>The smaller boy tilted his head a little to look up at his brother’s face and he quickly narrowed his eyes at the sight of a swollen lip and dried blood.</p><p>“What happened to you?” he asked, worry suddenly drowning out all the happiness he’d exuded before. “Did you get into another fight? Billy, why-“</p><p>“It’s nothin’,” Billy quickly silenced him with a very firm we-ain’t-gonna-talk-about-this look on his face.</p><p>“But-“ Lenny tried again, set on not giving up that easily.</p><p>“<em>I said </em>it’s fuckin’ nothing!” The taller boy had suddenly stepped in front of the other, one hand gripping his brother’s shoulder a little too tightly, anger washing over him.</p><p>Lenny returned the hard stare Billy was giving him and crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. “You know I’m not scared of ya, Billy. So don’t try that bullshit with me.”</p><p>Billy’s eyes widened in surprise at the unexpectedly strong language and his hand fell away from his brother. Instead he ruffled at his black, slightly too long hair in frustration.</p><p>“Sorry,” he finally mumbled and started walking again, Lenny hot on his heels. “I just… everything’s fine, okay?”</p><p>Lenny tipped his head back to look up at the sky and gave a long-suffering sigh. But finally he nodded and said, “Fine. But can you promise me something?”</p><p>“And what’s that?” Billy asked, hesitating just a little.</p><p>“Promise me not to get yourself hurt, okay?”</p><p>“Now, that’s a hard thing to promise, innit?” He chuckled ironically, trying to lift the mood a little, but Lenny just gave him a pleading look. “Fine. I’ll do me best.”</p><p>“Good. Because you know I need ya, right?”</p><p>Billy wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders as they slowly approached their narrow, somewhat shabby back-to-back.</p><p>“Yeah… I know.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This happened because I cannot stop thinking about Billy's childhood. He's just such a fascinating character to me and I felt like exploring that. </p><p>Very much inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoForkingClue/pseuds/NoForkingClue">NoForkingClue</a>, her writing, all the 70s and 80s punk I've been listening to and a very specific Kripke interview. </p><p>Sorry for any inconsistencies on the accent front. Cockney is hard to write... Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my very own.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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